the innuendos of democracy

In the canton where i grew up, the lake shores belong to the people. Even the owners of the mansions whose lawns slope softly into the water have to concede right of passage. Not of staying, or sitting, or opening your towel in the summer. The only thing allowed is walking on the path by the water. The owners do almost everything to dissuade you even of that, all kind of posts claim the privacy of the place, and you have to know where the metal entrance is hidden in the bushes behind the hut where the fisherman sells its catch. Most difficult of all, you have to not bother with your education, trumpeting aloud in your brain that private property is not only private but akind to sacred...
It's worth it, in each and every season. But the truth is, you almost never meet anybody.